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Evil Priests (I Samuel 2:11-25)
by amoswilson
We are priests of God most high,
And therefore we must act as such.
Taking heed lest we should die,
Of doing deeds which are unjust.
Don’t take more than He gave to you,
Or treat His holy things as cheap,
Indulging flesh more than its due,
Engaging in adulteries.
But first bring glory to the Lord,
Let worship be your natural state.
And why do you neglect His word?
Your idols you must decimate.
But we aren’t ever perfect priests,
Atoning between God and man,
But there is One who intercedes,
The Christ who is both God and man.
Who followed God in every way,
And yet He died as though for sin.
His sacrifice then made the way,
To sanctify the wicked men.
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God’s Revolution (I Samuel 2:4-7)by amoswilson |
The mighty man has bent his bow,
It snapped before he dealt a blow.
The one who fed on cream and meats,
Now begs for pennies in the streets.
The woman who had many sons,
Will live to mourn for everyone.
For God controls both life and death,
Success and victory in Him rest.
He raises up and razes low,
He arms the weak against his foe,
He gives the hungry food to eat,
He makes the barren womb complete.
So rich or dispossessed are one,
For by God’s hand are these things done.
In honor or in lowliness,
God guides all so His name is blessed.
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This Miraculous Son (I Samuel 1:12-28)by amoswilson |
When I fasted in mourning and cried,
While my rival provoked me to grief,
And the man that I love chose to chide,
Since I would not drink, nor would I eat.
Though undrinking, rebuked as if drunk,
By the war-weary priest of the Lord,
By this final rebuke I am stung,
Yet still I’ll be gracious in word.
Now I cast off my sorrowful face.
Having faith that God heard my request.
And he gave me a son by His grace,
Evermore His great name will I bless.
May your soul live! Sir, I was the one,
Who had prayed at your feet in her tears.
Now behold this miraculous son!
He will worship God all of his years.
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SONG OF HANNAH
By Amos Wilson
To the tune of “Mo Ghile Mear”
Chorus:
Glory to the Lord of Hosts,
He shall be my only boast,
He has humbled all my foes,
All praise to You, my saving Lord.
Grief and pain were all I knew,
A dried-up well, a barren root,
So with my voice I cried to You:
There is no one holy like the Lord!
There’s no one righteous like our God,
And only Him will I applaud,
For He has been my fortress rock:
There is no one holy like our Lord!
Beware your proud and careless speech,
Do not disguise your wicked deeds,
For God knows all — so take your heed:
There is no one holy like our Lord!